


Windchimes and fireflies

by well_of_sapphire_fears



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Friends to Lovers, Han Jisung | Han is a Ray of Sunshine, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, and warm, at least i hope so, fluff? idk, it's just soft, skz as best people in the whole world, so the truth basically
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26716306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/well_of_sapphire_fears/pseuds/well_of_sapphire_fears
Summary: Jisung likes to fill his life with simple, warm things. The rays of the sun on his face in the morning. The usual hustle bustle of the market. The smell of freshly baked cookies. The laughter of his friends. These are the things he loves the most.Minho, too. Maybe. Probably.Minho belongs to them as well, now, Jisung can’t help but think and smile. Of course he does. He’s Minho, after all.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	Windchimes and fireflies

**Author's Note:**

> An old farmer’s market I grew up next to has been demolished lately to make space for another apartment block, so I guess this was born from my sadness and nostalgia.

Jisung wakes up at nine, the sun’s rays peeking through his curtains. When he opens his eyes, he’s met with dozens of little stars dotting his ceiling. They’re Felix’s doing – last year, they stumbled upon a package of glow in the dark stickers in some random shop. Before Jisung knew it, Felix had already decorated his room with them, chattering excitedly through the whole process.

He smiles at the memory.

It’s warm in his bedroom, almost too warm already, but Jisung’s predicted that. The summer is slowly approaching its end, but the weather has yet to catch up. The temperatures border on uncomfortably hot most of the time and the sun beats down harshly during the day.

At least the humidity isn’t that bad, so Jisung doesn’t complain.

He rolls out of bed and gets dressed for the day. When he reaches into his closet, he runs his fingers over an extensive collection of hoodies. They’re Jisung’s favourite thing to wear and he cannot wait for the temperatures to lower again. Right now, it’s almost too hot even for the soft T-shirt and shorts he picks out.

In the kitchen, he washes his tumbler and pours the coffee he prepared yesterday evening and put in the fridge – it’s blessedly cold, just like he intended. His bag is where he left it the day before and the bowl of apples on the kitchen counter looks inviting, so he grabs one as he passes.

Like every day, Jisung walks out of his flat and building onto the little stairs of red brick that lead to the outside world. By now, the street is somewhat quiet, most people already at work. The cars pass by intermittently and the trees sway in the wind. Among them, there are loud and colourful groups of teenagers with ice cream in their hands and laughter in their voices. School’s still out, so they are taking advantage of their break to the fullest.

Stepping out onto the sidewalk, Jisung turns right and walks slowly, watching the world around him. The apple, once he bites into the red skin, is sweet.

It takes 15 minutes for him to reach the main street. It’s much busier here, but it always is, thanks to the enormous creature of aluminium roofs and cracked pavement across the street from Jisung.

It’s a farmers’ market and it’s been here longer than Jisung’s been alive. It’s old by now, some stalls a bit run down, but the shopkeepers are warm and friendly. It’s big, the largest market in their town so it’s always bustling with people. Mothers buying stocks for a family meal, children running around sucking on lollipops, tourists eating on the tables by the food stalls.

Jisung likes to think of it as a living, breathing thing, one that has a life of its own. Like it’s an ancient being full of magic and long lost secrets that you can only find if you brave the maze-like alleys. Unfamiliar people rarely dare to, because it’s so easy to lose your way.

Jisung grew up here though, running in between these stalls and stumbling over the uneven ground. He’s not afraid of getting lost.

He’s not working today, but his steps still lead him to a familiar stall.

When he steps into the small shop, the open door hits the windchimes Sana hung in the doorway. The soft familiar sounds fill the room announcing his arrival.

The only person inside is a boy slightly younger than Jisung sitting on a stool near the back. He seems to be playing a game on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, but he beams at Jisung when he looks up.

“Jisung-hyung, hi!” Jeongin says, his smile as bright as usual, his braces gleaming in the light. Jisung can’t help but return it.

“Hi, Jeongin-ah,” he answers and inhales, because it’s a tradition that they light scented candles in the corner. Today, it’s cinnamon with a note of nutmeg and ginger. Pumpkin spice, it seems. “You’re covering for Felix?” Jisung asks, recognizing the smell.

“Yeah,” Jeongin rubs his neck. The gesture feels familiar for some reason. “Clients only had high nominals today, so Felix-hyung realised he’s running low on change. He asked me to take care of the shop while he runs to ask Changbin-hyung for some.”

Jisung hums in acknowledgement. Although Jeongin doesn’t work with them, he’s friends with all of the employees. It’s not unusual to ask him to come sit here for a few minutes while they run an errand or just need to go to the bathroom.

Jeongin doesn’t really work anywhere on the market, in fact. He’s still in school. But his parents own a small food stall on the eastern edge, so he grew up here the same way Jisung had. By now, he knows basically everyone and he’s been coming into the shop since before Jisung started working here.

He’s not close with everyone though, Jisung thinks with fondness. Not the way he’s with Jisung or Felix, at least.

Jisung takes a sip of coffee from his tumbler as he looks around, checking if anything changed since his last shift. There’s a few new intricate wooden necklaces hanging to the right of the entrance. Felix must’ve brought them with him.

“He should be back in a moment, if you’re looking for him,” Jeongin offers.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just here to drop this off,” he answers, reaching into his tote bag. He pulls out a small stack of braided embroidery floss bracelets and places it on the small table next to Jeongin. And since he’s already there, Jisung also ruffles the younger’s hair. “We were running low yesterday, so I made some new ones. These things are always popular with the kids. Just give it to Felix when he comes back, alright?”

At Jeongin’s nod, he waves goodbye and steps out, leaving the _Homemade Jewellery_ shop behind. He has errands to go on.

Jisung likes calling this place the farmers’ market, but that isn’t exactly true. It started as one, sure, a long time ago. Back when it was just an empty plot of land where farmers sold their produce. But then it grew larger and larger, with actual shops with metal walls and aluminium roofs that sometimes hang over the pathways transforming them into tunnels.

It grew. It lived, Jisung smiles to himself.

Now, the farmers’ market part, the place where people sell fruits, vegetables, flowers is just the southern part of the whole market. The rest is…

The rest is everything else. Really, Jisung’s convinced that you can find anything you might have been looking for here and then some. But only if you look hard enough, brave the mysterious pathways and old shops filled with trinkets of the past.

For now though, Jisung has vegetables to buy for dinner, so he just heads south, leaving the market’s secrets behind.

By the time he finishes shopping, it’s just past one and the sun beats down on his back mercilessly. His tumbler has been empty for more than an hour and he’s parched, so he decides to grab something to cool down before he goes back home.

The walk to the ice cream shop is short. Turn right and then keep going straight until you reach the familiar white shop with floor to ceiling windows.

As soon as Jisung’s inside, he spares one look to see who’s working and then plops down on the nearest chair and positively _melts_ onto the table next to it.

“You’ve got the best job,” Jisung moans, feeling the sweat on his back become cold. The cooling breeze on his skin is heaven. He’s already feeling more alive than before walking through the door.

Hyunjin laughs, a familiar bright sound. “Well, thank you, I’m not complaining. Do you want something or are you here to just leech off our aircon?”

Jisung smiles against the counter, feeling a thousand times better. Hyunjin’s laugh just has that something in it. You cannot hear it and _not_ instantly become happier.

“Yeah, one scoop of chocolate please.” He then thinks, looks out of the window and sighs when he sees a familiar silhouette. How can he stand sitting there in this weather? “Wait, and a separate of vanilla. In cups, I don’t want them to melt through the wafer.”

“Sure,” Hyunjin nods. His hands are sure when he prepares the ice cream and Jisung watches attentively. Watching people working with ease and familiarity is always pleasant. Hyunjin’s still studying as well, only working here for the summer, but his dedication and hard work show even in small gestures like these.

After Hyunjin hands him his order, he stands up leaving his shopping bags on the floor. “I’ll come back for them in a moment,” Jisung calls over his shoulder as he steps out of the door into the heat and ignores Hyunjin’s indignant shouts of protest. “Keep them safe for me, thanks! And my wallet is in one of them, so just take what I owe you.”

When Jisung walks out, the person from before is still sitting on the little wall by the canal that is the eastern edge’s border. Thankfully he doesn’t have any costumers, so Jisung simply walks up and plops down next to him.

“Vanilla,” he says in lieu of a greeting, thrusting the cup at the older man.

Chan smiles. His dimples are there as always and the sight of them makes pleasant warmth spread in Jisung’s chest. “Thanks Sung,” he puts his supplies down next to him gently and takes the offered treat. “You’re too good of a friend.”

“Lots of people today?” Jisung asks, glancing at his sketchbook.

Chan has a normal nine to five job, but it doesn’t pay that great, so he usually spends his free time in the summer sketching quick portraits or caricatures for tourists browsing the market. He has enough talent to be good at it and he likes it, which is the most important thing.

“A few in the morning, but nothing for a while now. I think the heat is scaring people away,” he answers, licking his ice cream.

Chan has the policy of “if you don’t like it, you don’t have to pay” which sometimes means people take his drawings for free (they’re most likely lying because they don’t want to pay him and that makes Jisung angry, because Chan’s art is beautiful). For the most part though, they have enough conscience to simply leave and, from time to time, Chan’s left with a few sketches of random people at the end of the day.

This time, it’s a charcoal portrait of a young man, probably not much older than Jisung. There’s something otherworldly in his face. Chan’s quick, sharp strokes create a feeling of pride in his high cheekbones, but his bangs fall onto his brows in soft waves. His eyes, framed by the longest lashes he’s ever seen, remind Jisung of a cat.

He looks beautiful and Jisung just stares at it for a moment. Then, he startles out of his reverie, because even though he looks like prince charming, the man from the portrait is a real person and staring at him feels a bit creepy.

Anyways, of course he seems beautiful. Most people do in Chan’s drawings.

“That looks great, hyung,” he says pointing at the sketch. “The person didn’t like it?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it,” Chan laughs and rubs his neck. Jisung smiles, finally realising why seeing Jeongin do that felt familiar. The younger boy had always looked up to Chan and wanted to be like him, so maybe it’s not that surprising. “He doesn’t even know I drew him. That’s Lee Minho, have you never met him?”

Jisung mutely shakes his head.

“Really? Somehow, I assumed you’d know him. Well, his grandfather owns a farm and Minho’s helping him sell his crops in the summer. They have the best strawberries, you should check them out some time.”

Jisung hums in agreement, lips wrapped around his spoon. Strawberries might be a good idea. So close to the season’s end, they’re always the sweetest.

Chan takes another lick of his ice cream before continuing. “He was buying lunch some time ago and I just… Didn’t have anything else to do. I hope he won’t find it creepy when I tell him.”

“I’m sure he’ll love it. He’s your friend, right hyung? He’ll understand,” Chan is probably the most loyal and caring person Jisung knows. The things he does are always out of love. Jisung can’t comprehend anyone knowing him and not understanding that.

Still, he adds teasingly. “If he truly knows you, I’m pretty sure he won’t even be surprised.”

Chan laughs and bumps his shoulders into his playfully. “Oi, you brat. I don’t usually draw people without their permission.”

Jisung smiles, thinking of all the random squirrel doodles he has gotten from Chan over the years that now hang above the head of his bed. They are in all shades of orange, the strokes of pastel creating pictures full of energy, different crayon shades blending into one another and transforming into fur that feels almost real. Jisung’s had a dream or two before where they came to life and played with him.

But Chan’s just kind like that. His art is the closest thing to his heart, so he wants to share it with the people he loves. It’s a privilege to be drawn with such a feeling, more than anything.

He sighs in contentment. The ice cream, combined with the cold brick he’s sitting on had made the heat bearable. The chocolate tastes sweet on his tongue.

Chan didn’t style his hair today, so the curly strands are a mess. A pleasant wave of nostalgia washes over Jisung, a warmth in his chest that doesn’t have anything to do with the weather. He’s always the happiest when he spends time with his friends like this.

Jisung starts giggling. Chan glances over, confused for a moment, before following suit.

Neither knows exactly why they’re laughing, but that doesn’t matter.

* * *

Jisung walks out of the small shop next Friday, calling goodbye to Chaeyoung-noona, who is taking over after his shift. Upon leaving, he turns left. Then it’s straight for a bit, left after he passes the hair ornaments shop, and then straight again until he reaches his destination.

When Jisung had been very little, his family moved to the apartment building that stood by the northern edge of the market. Things had been hard in a new city and his parents worked all day so that they could get by. Little Jisung had found himself with days when he had to occupy himself and a whole different small world to discover.

Even now, although he works by the western edge, the cracked pavement of the paths he used to walk on as a child feels the most familiar. He’d been afraid back then to step further into the labyrinth of these little streets, so he had stayed there. He doesn’t regret it though.

There’s no formal distinction between the parts of the market, but over the years one seems to have formed anyways. The most obvious is the eastern side, bordered by a little canal where most of the fast food stalls are, along with the little ice cream shop where Hyunjin works as a part timer. That’s where most of the tourists gather, eating kebabs, fried rice, dumplings and other foods from all over the world.

You’ve also got the western edge with mostly small clothing shops, and that’s also where their jewellery shop is. The fresh produce is sold in the southern part, what people usually call the front of the market, since it’s closest to the main street. That place is filled with stalls that sell fruits, vegetables, and dairy products.

The northern part is the magical one.

Here is where all the little stalls that belong to none of these categories are, little bookstores, antique stores, even a watchmaker and a seamstress. It’s also the quietest place in the whole market, not many people venturing as far back. There used to be an entrance on this side as well, the one Jisung used when he was young, but somewhere around the time he got to high school, it had been blocked by a freshly built apartment building.

The bookstore, once he finally reaches it, is quaint and thankfully colder than the outside.

He had first found it way, way back, when he was still a child stumbling through the unfamiliar territory. He’d been too afraid to walk inside any of the stores, but the old lady who used to run it had saw him one day and invited him in.

She made the best cake and always had cool lemonade for Jisung whenever he walked in. She became a grandmother to Jisung whose actual grandparents died before he was born. He has many precious memories from where he sat on the armchair in the corner and she would tell him tales about the adventures of a brave boy that looked at everything with kindness even when the world treated him harshly and rejected him.

He cried so much when she died.

The bell Jisung once helped hang above the doorway is still ringing softly when he spots the current owner on the staircase leading to the small storage room upstairs. “Hi,” Jisung greets him with a smile.

The first time they met had been on her funeral. Even though, back then, the other didn’t know the strange sobbing boy at all, he still handed Jisung a handkerchief to dry his tear-stricken face with concerned eyes. Jisung realised then that the boy from the stories hadn’t been him, but had in fact been her actual grandson.

She had described him well – if Jisung had to sum up Seo Changbin in one word, then it would be _kind_.

The other boy shakes his head at him, but it’s done with fondness. “Hi, Sung.”

Changbin had changed a lot since their first meeting. Back then he’d been a scrawny skinny boy with a sharp look in his eyes that scared other kids off. He’s filled out since then, his clothes no longer hanging off his frame. The defined muscles of his arms seem out of place in a small bookstore.

“Did you finish your shift?” Changbin asks gently now, his tone warm and smile tender.

Well. Physically, he had changed a lot, but Jisung knows his personality is still the same.

He nods. “Yeah… But I need to go shopping before I go home, I’m feeling like fresh apples today.”

“If you’re looking for fruits then you’re on the wrong side of the market,” Changbin teases him. When Jisung just grins back, the elder rolls his eyes. “Alright, wait here a moment. I think I still have a brownie or two from Felix,” he says and disappears into the room upstairs.

“How come Felix always gives you what he baked and I’m left with nothing?” Jisung whines but does it without any real annoyance. Felix and Changbin are… Felix and Changbin. Of course they treat each other differently than their other friends.

The bookstore feels the same as usual. The air is dusty, but not suffocating and the spines on the shelves seem like old friends to Jisung. The books here are special and antique. The bookstore doesn’t get a lot of clients, but the collectors know of it and the prices of such treasures mean Changbin earns enough to keep the shop alive.

Jisung plops down onto one of the two armchairs in the corner in the same way he’s done since his childhood. Even though the grandma’s not here anymore, this is still his second home.

They spend almost an hour just sitting together and talking, a box of delicious brownies in between them, before Jisung realises he should go before the farmers close for the day. He says goodbye, leaving Changbin with a promise to come again soon and heads south.

He reaches the first fruit stalls by the time he remembers Chan’s words about that boy from the drawing.

What was his name? Lee Minho, right?

Chan said they had the best strawberries in the market and Jisung licks his lips at the thought. Maybe he’ll buy some strawberries as well. It’s a shame he didn’t ask where that boy’s stall was, but he reckons finding some decent ones won’t be that hard.

He walks around a bit, lost in the afternoon stream of people coming here on their way home from work. A man in a suit passes him, 4 bags in each hand and a tired but determined smile on his face. Jisung buys apples from one stall and a woman with a small girl stands in the queue behind him. The daughter can’t be more than 5 and she has big brown eyes and twin pigtails.

Jisung smiles at her and when she grins back at him, he notices her front teeth are gone.

He steps into the flower shop while he’s in this part of the market, because what’s not to love in flowers. Seungmin isn’t there and Jisung plans to just smell them for some time and leave, but the middle aged woman at the counter recognizes him and waves him over. She tucks a yellow flower behind his ear, securing it with a bobby pin from her own hair.

“Hush,” she shushes him when he tries to protest.

Many stalls sell strawberries, but there is one that catches his eye as he walks by it. The fruits aren’t the biggest he’s seen, but they are a beautiful shade of red that promises sweetness. These should do just fine, he thinks.

“I’m sure every farmer says that, but in my humble opinion, our strawberries are the best ones out there,” a voice says when Jisung is examining them.

Jisung looks up and startles. It’s that man from the drawing.

The stranger- no, Minho is smiling at him from behind the crate strawberries in front of the stall. He’s still ridiculously handsome, but… He looks a lot softer in the flesh than on Chan’s portrait, his features defined but smoothened by the afternoon sun and the gentleness of his expression.

“They look good,” Jisung nods in agreement.

Minho’s cat eyes are amicable. Jisung usually doesn’t do well with stranger being overly friendly unless they’re children or harmless old ladies, but something in Minho’s face puts him at ease. “Want to taste? You can take one, if you’d like, see if they’re to your liking.”

At Minho’s encouraging gesture, Jisung takes one fruit from the pile.

The strawberry he bites into is soft. It’s sweet, like he thought it would be, but the sweetness feels more than just sugar. The taste seems full of warm sunlight with the freshness of early morning dew sprinkled in. Refreshing, as well as saccharine.

“They’re really good!” Jisung exclaims, surprised. He expected them to taste nice, but not to this extent. It seems Chan had been right about Lee Minho’s stall.

Minho’s eyes form crescents when he smiles. That’s something Chan’s drawing couldn’t convey, no matter how good it was. “See? That’s what I said. How much would you like?”

Jisung knows he probably won’t eat it all, but he buys a whole kilogram. In any case, he can bring what’s left to work. Felix will eat them for sure. But when he tries to pay, Minho’s eyes seem to be drawn to something else.

“Nice flower you have there,” he tilts his head and frowns like he’s trying to recall something. “That’s… new beginnings, right?”

Jisung looks at him, confused. His hand is in the air from where he tried to grab the strawberries Minho’s still holding. “What?”

“Ah, sorry,” Minho says once he notices, apologetic, and finally hands him his bag and takes the money. “My mother has always been big on flower meanings. And daffodils mean a new beginning. I guess the person who gave it to you thought your life would change today, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jisung nods, distracted by the way Minho’s eyes seem to twinkle with silent laughter. “Yeah, I guess so.”

As he walks back home, the sweet smell of strawberries follows him like a promise. He gets a stomach ache when he eats them all the next day, but he’s happy.

Maybe he’ll go and buy more soon.

Jisung also plans to ask about the flower, but when he goes the next day to give the bobby pin back, the only person in the flower shop is Wonpil. He forgets about it after that.

The lone daffodil rests on his windowsill in a plastic container with silica gel he keeps for times like these, because Jisung can never simply throw out his flowers. After a week, it dries beautifully.

* * *

The next time someone mentions Minho, it’s been more than a week since Jisung bought his strawberries. That Saturday is Jisung’s what they call ‘work from home’ day, which they use to replenish the shop’s stocks. Today it means using Sana’s art room and making resin necklaces and earrings.

It’s Felix’s day off, but he still came to help Jisung.

Well, to hang out with him while he works more like it. But he still keeps handing Jisung things and assisting him in that unprompted way that makes Jisung smile. Felix probably doesn’t realise it himself, but he cannot simply sit there without helping. That’s just the kind of person he is.

He’s telling Jisung about eating lunch with Hyunjin and Chan when he mentions it.

“And then Minho-hyung comes, you know which one, right? Lee Minho. The strawberries one,” Jisung starts nodding, then catches himself and shakes his head, before pausing again. He knows of him and has met him, but they’ve never been properly introduced.

Minho probably has no idea who he is. Saying they’ve met could lead to some awkward assumptions, right?

But Felix just continues, not caring much for Jisung’s reaction. “Chan-hyung knows him well, so he invited him to sit with us. So we’re just sitting there, eating and talking when a guy starts busking and he sings so well, you know? He had such a nice voice, everyone just stopped whatever they were doing to listen.”

Jisung nods, taking the resin from Felix and setting down the little container with sand he’s been using to decorate. The drop of colour Felix had already added creates a beautiful sky to the beach he’s created in a pendant only slightly bigger than his fingernail.

Jisung doesn’t really have a preference when it comes to creating jewellery, not like Sana likes making cracked glass gems or Felix enjoys carving wood. For him, it’s the fact of creating something from scratch that exhilarates him. The beauty of seeing something that didn’t exist suddenly exist.

The people that admire the things afterwards are just a bonus. But if he can make someone’s day better, simply make them smile with something he made, then Jisung couldn’t be happier.

He squints at his handiwork and deems it satisfying enough before reaching out for the container of shells and tweezers.

Felix’s story continues. “He introduced himself as JB, but Chan-hyung said he knows him personally. It turns out he actually convinced him to come perform. Isn’t that insane? Chan-hyung knows everyone.”

There’s a note in Felix’s voice that causes Jisung’s brows to furrow. He pours the last of the resin and finishes the necklace, before tapping it lightly to make sure there are no bubbles of air trapped inside.

He looks up, but it’s hard to judge Felix’s expression when they’re both wearing face masks for safety. “You know you could perform as well, if you wanted to, right? Anyone can,” he says, trying to place the weird wistfulness in the other’s voice. “You’d do great.”

Felix’s eyes are surprised before he bursts into laughter. “Me? What? No, that’s not really my thing. And anyways, if I were to perform I’d probably stick to dancing and there’s not really much space for that in the market, is there? I’m fine where I am. I like watching people busk.”

Jisung cocks his head, simply waiting. It’s not long before Felix continues.

“It’s just that… Chan-hyung can sing as well, right? I know cause sometimes when I’m homesick he sings to me in English,” Felix blushes at that and Jisung’s heart clenches in sympathy for his friend. “Yet he never performs, even though he has the best spot for that in the market. Why is that?”

Jisung mulls over the question as he carefully transfers the necklace into a safer place and leaves it to dry with the others. “I’m not sure. Maybe he prefers to stick to drawing? Chan-hyung can do everything well, after all, he’s just that kind of genius. He can’t possibly do everything though.” Felix nods in agreement at that, but he’s still hesitant. “Have you tried asking him about it?”

“I did. He just laughed it off.” Felix pouts in that way that makes Jisung squish his cheeks and coo before slumping over the desk with a sigh. Thankfully, he doesn’t touch any of the drying necklaces. “I just think he’d do great, you know? Or any of our friends, if they tried. Or you. You can rap and sing and play the guitar. Triple threat! Don’t you think performing would be fun?” he asks, doing his best impression of puppy dog eyes.

Jisung rolls his eyes. He hasn’t picked up his guitar in a few weeks, as usually happens in the summer. He tends to spend his days outside, only going back to the instrument on long winter evenings. And he’s not too big on performing as well – he likes how his life is now. That’s not a change he needs.

Jisung raises an eyebrow trying to look stern, even though he knows he probably just looks fond. One simply cannot when Felix is slumped over the table so adorably. “Why do you suddenly want someone to perform?”

Felix’s face goes through ten different expressions before it settles on sheepish. “Can’t tell. I don’t wanna lie to you, but I promised I’d keep it a secret.”

Jisung nods. That’s fair and he won’t ask further. But Felix’s honesty is astounding and the familiarity of it makes Jisung smile. He has the best friends ever, doesn’t he? Jisung wants to hug him, but then Felix hands him a new batch of resin and it isn’t something that can wait.

“Changbin-hyung can sing as well,” he says instead, as he pours it carefully into another mould.

“What? Really? How come I never knew that?”

Jisung shrugs. There are things that come from knowing someone for a long time and it hasn’t been two years since Felix moved to Korea. “He doesn’t do it often and I’m not sure if he’d want to do it publicly. But I’m sure if you asked, he’d sing for you sometime.” He smiles teasingly. “You’re you after all. Changbin-hyung can never say no to you.”

Felix’s ears are red as he splutters.

When they finally leave Sana’s apartment a few hours later, it’s dark. They grab dinner together, some delicious Chinese and then part to their respective homes.

In the evening, Jisung sits in front of the window and sips his tea. The guitar he took out of its case is a familiar weight in his lap. He grabbed it, because his fingers itched to play but now none of his old compositions feel right. He wants to create something new, yet he doesn’t know what.

His laptop blinks from where it’s open on the table in front of him as he takes another sip. The tea is chamomile with a touch of lemon and suddenly, Jisung wishes he had a strawberry flavoured one in his cabinet.

The feeling is so surprising it startles a laugh out of him. He’s never been too into fruit teas, but just look at that.

Still… It’s a thought. Maybe he does have an idea what he wants his next song to be about, after all.

_Flower meanings_ , he types into the search bar.


End file.
